


Tears Lost in the Rain

by raspberrylimonade



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Season 6B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-18 17:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11879463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberrylimonade/pseuds/raspberrylimonade
Summary: A collection of possible stydia reunions in 6b.





	1. no.1

**Author's Note:**

> What it says on the tin. Stydia 6b reunions, each one as unlikely to actually happen as the next. I imagined most of these while watching other episodes in 6b because they're boring 90% of the time.
> 
> Title comes from Queen of My Heart by Westlife, which perfectly describes stydia doing long distance.
> 
> Also, I'm raspberrylimonade and tumblr and stlnskissmartin on twitter if you wanna talk or rant about teen wolf.

_All of our tears will be lost in the rain_

_As I found my way back to your arms again_

_\-- Westlife, “Queen of My Heart”_

* * *

 

Tunnels. He hated tunnels.

He advanced through the enclosed tube, handgun held up in front of his face, the way he was trained to. With every corner he turned he swept the area with the weapon. He was moving a lot faster than an agent normally would, but he wasn’t just scouting out an area.

He lacked the hearing of most of his friends, but still kept his ears peeled for any sound that echoed through the tunnels.

He hated tunnels. They reminded him of Eichen House. Eichen reminded him of his darkest days. It was where he fought and lost to a monster bearing his face. Where Lydia was held captive not once but twice. Where he ran through the underground searching for her.

Here he was, once again, racing through the tunnels, trying to find –

A squeak – no, a muffled scream, coming from the bunker just down the tunnel branch to his right.

 _Lydia_.

He burst into the bunker, the feeling eerily familiar. He swept his gun from left to right. The action had been honed into muscle memory, but his dominant instinct was to look for Lydia, and he’d spotted her straightaway.

Or rather, the hunter pinning her against the wall.

He could not see the man’s face, only his back. Over the set of thick shoulders was Lydia’s head. Her mouth was hung open in a silent scream. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Fingers were wrapped around her neck, choking her breath out of her.

The next thing Stiles knew, he was slamming the butt of his handgun into the side of the man’s head.

That move had not been part of his training, when he saw that Lydia was getting hurt again, he had just acted.

Ideally the blow should have knocked the hunter out, but Stiles did not have the strength to deal such a blow. Still, the man released his grip on Lydia and stumbled two steps to the side before turning on Stiles.

Lydia bent over as she hit the floor. Her hands found purchase in front of her knees before she collapsed entirely. She blinked away the dark spots dancing in her vision and looked up to see –

 _Stiles_.

He was wrestling with the rogue deputy who had cornered her. Their bodies were a blur as was her vision, but she just _knew_ it was him. She could recognize the way he moved, even if she had not seen him training in basic combat before.

Their arms were locked in position, each man’s left hand grabbing the other’s right. The hunter was trying to wrest Stiles’ handgun away and Stiles had gripped the man’s arm while blocking a punch. Lydia watched as Stiles tried to knee the man once, twice, but his opponent was more built than he was. With a single tug, he’d managed to unbalance Stiles and twist his arm around so he was forced to drop his handgun.

Stiles spun as he lost his footing. Lydia saw the hunter move as his back was turned. She saw the glint of the light against the black steel. He moved so fast, by the time the gasp had left her mouth so had bullet leave the gun.

Stiles was still reeling from getting his arm twisted then being backhanded across the face when he heard the _bang_ quickly followed by the punch in his lower right back. The impact sent him sprawling onto the floor. He’d been shot.

Lydia’s hand had slapped across her mouth when she gasped, as if she was trying to prevent a scream from leaving her mouth. Then the hunter took another step towards Stiles and she lunged.

She screamed – a human scream – as she flung herself at the man. Threw herself into his side with all her weight behind her, which wasn’t much, but at least it forced him to turn away from Stiles and onto her.

She kicked out and her foot connected with his elbow, sending the arm upwards. A bullet fired into the ceiling. Then she thrust her hands towards his chest and _screamed_.

The hunter flew backwards and crashed into a metal cabinet, which left a crater in the wall as it collapsed on top of him. It did not occur to Lydia to check if he was alive or dead. In the moment, the only thing that mattered was Stiles.

He had flipped himself into a half-sitting position, leaning on his uninjured side, and was groaning behind her. Lydia was on him in a flurry, hands flying every, a series of _“oh my god, Stiles, oh god”_ escaping her trembling lips.

“M’fine,” he managed, pushing himself up. “Bulletproof vest.” He was not bleeding, which means the Kevlar had stopped the bullet from penetrating his flesh. Still, his right side hurt like a bitch and there was probably a nasty bruise forming.

Lydia just mumbled another “ _oh god_ ” before she ducked under his arm, helping him stand up.

They stumbled out of the bunker, the tunnels, all the way to the jeep, every step of the way feeling all too familiar, except this time it was _her_ supporting _him_.

When they were racing away in the jeep, he felt a hand under his shirt and the vest. He found a dent in the vest that was digging into his back. He also left his handgun in the bunker. He would have a lot of explaining to do when he got back to Virginia.

Lydia’s head turned as she glanced at him. She gripped the clutch tighter and stepped on the gas.

There was so much Stiles wanted to say to her. The detailed lecture he had planned out on the way back to Beacon Hills had been thrown out the window upon learning the pack had been divided and Lydia was unaccounted for, but the main points were still floating around in his mind, coming together now that he had to moment to stop and think.

But she was still strung up from the fight, so he covered her hand on the gear shift with his, as if he could drain away her tension with his touch.

(He could.)

He managed to walk from the jeep into the animal clinic without leaning on Lydia as much. The initial sharp pain of the bullet hitting him had spread out into a throbbing ache in his lower right back. He briefly wondered how he would be feeling if he hadn’t gone to the East Coast, if he was not in any pre-FBI program that assigned bulletproof vests to trainees, if there had been nothing between him and that bullet. Or even if there had been, if it was something like a .45, the bullet would have ripped through his flesh anyway.

He shook his head. He didn’t need to know.

He collapsed against the side of the metal table, perhaps a bit too dramatically than called for, because it sent Lydia into a frenzy. She started combing through the drawers, searching for a pair of pliers. Stiles pushed himself up, shrugged his flannel off then made to remove his shirt. Lydia, having found what she was looking for, whirled around and caught him before he could take the vest off. A forceful hand pushed at his shoulder until he was laid over the table again.

He groaned as the pliers made first contact with the material of the vest, inadvertently pressing the dent further into his back. Lydia huffed out an apologetic “ _sorry_ ” before moving to pull the bullet out of his vest again.

When she finally dislodged the projectile, the momentum sent him jerking forward. The muscles in his arms tensed instinctively, preventing him from face-planting into the metal surface of the table. He shifted his weight to the left and turned his body over to face Lydia.

She had dropped the bullet into a small plastic bowl. Her back was towards him, head hung low, her hands braced against the side counter. Stiles watched the rise and fall of her shoulders as she inhaled and exhaled. He noticed her breaths had been quick and shallow before, and she was breathing in deeper with each breath now, like she was calming herself down. Then it dawned on him – he had been shot, and she had panicked.

“Lydia.”

Her name came out softer than he had expected, but it still got her to look over her shoulder, at him.

Lydia turned slowly. She knew she didn’t have to remove the bullet from the vest, but in the moment, she had not been thinking straight. She could have been digging it out of Stiles’ flesh, and it rattled her to the core.

“He could have hurt you,” she told him, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

“And he hurt _you_ ,” Stiles replied, leaning forward. One long arm reached across the narrow space between them, finding hers, tugging her towards him. His hands crept up her arms to her neck. She felt the light touch of his fingers dancing across her skin as he checked for bruises.

The room was dark save for the streetlights diffusing through the small windows and a table lamp Lydia had turned on while removing the bullet. Still, Stiles could make out dark splotches blooming across her fair skin.

Anger coursed through his veins. The man did not just want to kill Lydia, he had to strangle her, taking her voice, her power away as he took her life, making her death ironic.

“He did hurt you,” Stiles snarled. “He nearly _killed_ you, Lydia! And there are hundreds like him out there trying to kill everyone else. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lydia resisted the urge to flinch as he raised his voice ever so slightly, making his frustration known. She brushed his hands away from her neck and jutted her chin up.

“You had school,” she asserted. “You had training. You were so excited…if we told you what was going on you would have just dropped everything and come back and – ”

“What did you expect me to do?” Stiles interrupted. His fingers curled into her arms, just above her elbow. “Do you know how worried I was? Dodging my questions over text, not answering my Skype calls… And then Derek, of all people, tells me someone is recruiting new hunters. And I just found out about this fear spirit that makes everyone afraid and – ”

“I was afraid, okay?” she exclaimed, unable to restrain herself. Just the thought of that _thing_ made her tremble in cold sweat. “I was _terrified_! You haven’t seen what that the creature does, and it came out of the Wild Hunt, and I was afraid they were going to take you again. Because that’s my fear, Stiles! I’m afraid of losing you.”

There was a beat as she caught her breath, and then Stiles was pulling her towards him. His arms encircled her body, one hand holding her head against his chest.

Lydia exhaled, feeling the tension seep out of her body. Her arms slid under Stiles’, clutching his shoulders. She could feel the tough material of the protective vest beneath his T-shirt and flannel. The single layer of basic armour had saved her from unimaginable agony tonight.

“It’s okay,” Stiles murmured. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He buried his face in Lydia’s hair. One inch down and his lips would brush against the ridged skin at the side of her head – the remaining sign of her time in Eichen house.

He remembered the way she looked at him when he burst through the doors then, as if she had accepted she would never see him – or anyone else – ever again. She would rather be alone than risk his life, and he would risk everything to be with her.

Reluctantly, he extricated himself partially from their embrace – just enough to lean back and look at her.

“If something happens – if _anything_ happens,” he stressed, “call me, okay? Scream, shout… No matter how far away I am or what I’m doing, I’ll find you. And we can figure it out, together.”

Lydia lifted her head. Her chin rested on his chest as her eyes met his.

“I just want to protect you,” she said softly.

He gave her a small smile. “I want to protect you too.”

Lydia sighed contentedly as she reburied her head in his chest. She had been so afraid of what would happen if Stiles returned to Beacon Hills, but now that he was here, she felt the safest she had been in weeks.

Here in each other’s arms, they could face anything in the world. They protect each other.


	2. no.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another imagined reunion scenario that is definitely not happening but a girl can dream.

Lydia always wanted to know things. She craved knowledge. She needed information. She wanted to be in the know.

So it was killing her to not know what was going on outside.

They - she, Malia, Mason, Corey, and the small group of supernatural strays they’d picked up - were hiding out in the old basement of a place that Derek used to train Isaac, Erica and Boyd in.

Scott, Liam, Argent and Theo are outside trying to distract the hunters so the rest of them can escort the wounded to the animal clinic. The injured wolves are in the old subway car for extra protection. Corey is with them, ready to turn them all invisible in case their temporary shelter is breached. The other werecreatures (and Mason, who found a metal pole to arm himself with) stand scattered around them. Lydia herself is stationed closest to the single stairway leading in and out of the lair.

Her position serves two purposes. One, if a group of hunters try to attack them, she can unleash a scream to knock them out without hurting anyone in the pack. Two, if they are lucky, she’ll be the one to receive Liam’s signal when it’s time for them to break cover.

Behind her, Malia tilts her head. “Someone’s coming,” she notes, and a few moments later Lydia herself can hear quick footsteps descending towards them.

A worm sports shoe appears at the top landing before Liam himself does, and Lydia alerts every to prepare to move out. However, Liam unexpectedly hurries all the way down, looking a little too excited given their situation.

“You can all come out,” he tells them. “The coast is clear.”

There’s a surprising lack of urgency in his voice, and when he turns around to jog up the stairs again, it seems almost  _casual_.

Confused, no one follows him, so the young wolf turns around and gestures for them to follow him.

“Come on, it’s safe,” he assures them. “You’ll want to see this.”

He looks directly at Lydia as he says the second part.

Glancing back, Lydia sees everyone seems as clueless as she is.

“Stay behind me,” she cautions them, before starting up the stairs.

Liam is waiting for her at the top, standing aside of the narrow doorway leading outside. Lydia hears no gunshots or growling or any signs of an ongoing fight, which relaxes her slightly, but she still frowns at Liam’s odd behaviour. He offers a reassuring smile as she passes him to squeeze outside.

She’s not sure what she expects to see, but it certainly isn’t an old blue vehicle, which shouldn’t be here because Scott definitely did not drive the jeep here, and the only other person who has the keys is - 

 - climbing out of the driver’s side, and Lydia’s vision tunnels.

Stiles turns his head, his warm brown eyes immediately locking onto hers, and in that moment the rest of the world faded away.

There were no hunters. No siege. No war between supernatural creatures and humans. Only Stiles, face lit up and eyes shining bright, and Lydia.

A wave of emotion overcomes her - happiness, relief, anxiety, love, all rolled into one. She doensn’t realise her feet are moving until she’s flinging herself at him. Whether he lifts her off the ground or she jumps, they don’t know, only that her legs end up wrapped around him, her face burrowing into his neck as they embrace.

She had tried so hard to keep him away but now he’s here, she doesn’t want to let him go.

An eternity could have passed when Stiles finally sets her down, and she pulls back just enough to look at his face.

“You’re here,” she says. It means  _I’m so glad you’re here with me_. It means  _You came back, you came to help us_. It means  _You can’t be here, you’re going to get hurt_.

She’s suddenly aware of his arms wrapped tightly around her, his large hands spread across her back, hips and shoulders all at once, firm yet comforting.

Stiles smiles back at her, just as he did at their last reunion in the dark locker room.

“I’m here,” he echoes. It means  _I’ll always come back for you_. It means  _I couldn’t let you do this alone_. It means  _I’m going to fight too_.

His flannel is oh so soft beneath her fingertips, the sensation of clinging to it so familiar in a way that makes her giddy, and when his nose brushes ever so tenderly against hers, the words burst out of her.

“I love you.”

They rush out of her in a single breath, and she has barely inhaled when Stiles’ lips crash onto hers.

He kisses her long and hard, deeply, fully. She returns it with an equal passion and intensity that makes her rise onto her toes.

Her lips trail after his when they part, not wanting to let him go. He doesn’t stray far anyway. Their foreheads stay  _just_  connected.

“I know,” he whispers against her lips, and she can’t help her small chuckle and her grin, because only Stiles could quote Star Wars at such a time.

“I know you were trying to protect me,” he elaborates.

Her face falls, her expression shifting to one that is guilty and apologetic. Guilty because she kept something from him, but also because wanting him here, beside her, when it puts him in the line of fire. Apologetic because she wants to say she is sorry and she never meant to hurt him or make him worry.

“How did you find out?” she asks.

“It’s a long and funny story,” he says, tilting his head towards where Derek is having an intense discussion with Scott. Then he fixes her with a serious look. “You should have still called me. I can help.”

She remembers saying those same words to him, when they were younger and less scarred. He had told her then he couldn’t bear to live without her. She thinks about how far they’ve come since then, and how it’s her turn to be afraid of living without him.

“I nearly told you. So many times,” she confesses. She’s trembling slightly as the dark thoughts of losing Stiles creep into her mind again. One of his hands finds its way into her hair, stroking the back of her head. The action calms her down and she melts into his touch.

“We’ll get through this together,” he says as he holds her tightly against him. “Teamwork, remember?”

She smiles and nods, hugging him back.


End file.
